


the devil got him good for sure

by BananasofThorns



Series: look the devil in the eye [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Developing Friendships, Dissociation, Dramatization, Enemies to Friends, Evil Wilbur Soot, Explosives, Gen, Mental Instability, The Manberg Festival, Uneasy Allies, Unreliable Narrator, and then it spiralled into this, i mean it's minecraft of course it's going to be dramatized, listen I just wanted to write something with wilbur and dream being "friends", very briefly tho, while they plotted to explode everything and cause mass chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: Dream hums, still studying the plans. “I think it’s good. You’ll definitely—” he chuckles. “You’ll definitely cause a lot of chaos. There will be a lot of damage from this.”“Which is good, right? That’s what we want.”“Yes, it is.” Dream smiles and runs a finger over the outline of where Wilbur is planting the TNT; some of the charcoal smudges, and his skin comes away black and ashy. “It’s very good.”Explosives and mass-destruction are always a good base for an alliance, right?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: look the devil in the eye [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987141
Comments: 16
Kudos: 216





	1. broken bones

**Author's Note:**

> [fic title from Broken Bones - KALEO]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chapter title from Broken Bones - KALEO]

He’s pacing the forest near Pogtopia when he stumbles across Dream - or, probably more accurately: when Dream finds him.

Wilbur doesn’t notice him at first, too caught up in his own raging thoughts and half-coherent muttering. It’s only when he nearly walks into a tree that he looks up and comes face-to-face with shining netherite and that all-too-familiar mask.

He steps back. Tilts his head, slightly.

“Hello, Dream.”

He says the words carefully, suddenly very aware of his complete lack of armor. The only weapons he has are a crossbow and a measly stone sword; he’s pretty sure neither of those will do him any good if he gets into a fight against the most powerful man on the world.

The smile on the mask is as wide and blank as ever. “Hello!”

Wilbur resists the urge to take another step back. He narrows his eyes, trying to determine why the hell Dream would be wandering these woods _now_ , of all times.

“Have you heard that Schlatt is having a festival?”

The question is blurted, an impulse that Wilbur almost regrets; it’s meant to be pleasant, genial, but an undercurrent of bitter anger bleeds into the words.

Dream’s head tilts, ever so slightly. “I have been...out all day, so I did not hear that.”

“Oh.” That’s kind of surprising, actually; Wilbur had assumed that Dream knew everything about his world and its ongoings. “He’s putting on a big festival to celebrate democracy,” Wilbur flutters his hands in the air, a sarcastic wave, “um, and it—”

Dream snorts. It’s the first emotion he’s shown in the past five minutes. Wilbur isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“Well, you laugh, but he’s kind of...he’s kind of right, um— It got me thinking, Dream.” He cuts his own bitter ruminations off, abruptly, unable to stop the questions that have been buzzing in his mind for weeks, at this point. Almost since Pogtopia first began.

“How much would you say that me and Tommy are the bad guys, here?” Wilbur asks, tripping over his own words. He stares at the tree he’d nearly walked into to avoid looking at Dream’s face, or lack thereof. “Because—”

“I don’t think you guys are the bad guys,” Dream interrupts. 

Wilbur blinks. He hadn’t been expecting _that_ , from Dream of all people; to be honest, the fact that Dream had been the one to say it almost does the opposite of soothe Wilbur’s fears. He scrunches up his nose, doubtful, and raises his fingers to count.

“I mean, we fought against people, we killed people to get leadership of our country, we didn’t really do much in our leadership, and now after they’ve voted us out, we’re trying to fight our way back in.” He shrugs, grandiose, and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “It feels like we might— I don’t know.”

Dream is silent for long enough that Wilbur starts to get nervous - more nervous - that he’s said something wrong. Finally, Dream says, “I think that sometimes a ruler is unfit.” His words are deliberate, carefully chosen.

Wilbur nods. “No, no, I get you. I understand.” He starts to grin. “Dream, you have vested interests, though. I think you would enjoy there to be conflict between Manberg—” he stumbles, slightly, over the name. “—and Pogtopia. You know, I—”

“Well—”

Wilbur waves a hand, dismissing Dream’s probably-feigned protests. “I don’t care. I don’t _care_ that you’re using us; hell, I’ll go along with it! I will help you create the chaos you so desperately want.”

He drops his arms and glances at the sky; the sun is lowering towards the horizon. Tommy will come looking for him, soon.

“Listen, Dream, I have to go. If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

He watches Dream for a moment longer before turning on his heel and walking away.

+++

When Wilbur sees Dream next, he’s sitting on one of the walkways crisscrossing their ravine. Techno is out doing— something, Wilbur honestly isn’t sure what, and Tommy is nowhere to be seen. Wilbur is taking advantage of the almost-peace, listening to the ambient cave noises and humming under his breath, swinging his legs in the open air. He’s glad he didn’t let Techno install those safety railings.

A presence appears at his side, near-silent but still noticeable. Wilbur opens his eyes, barely surprised to see Dream standing beside him, arms crossed. Still in full netherite, still with the mask. Of course. Wilbur grins.

“Hello, Dream.”

“Wilbur.” Dream holds out a hand; Wilbur takes it and stands, half-expecting Dream to throw him off the edge. “I’m here to continue our conversation.”

“Ah, of course.” Wilbur rocks on his heels, some of that familiar manic energy starting to buzz in his veins. “You enjoy this chaos, you enjoy this conflict between Manberg and Pogtopia.” He doesn’t hesitate on the name this time. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t, I can see it. I can _see_ it!”

Dream chuckles, starts to say something. Wilbur cuts him off.

“I’m here to facilitate that. I’m here to facilitate that.”

Above them, very faintly, is the sound of the cave entrance being opened and then shut. Wilbur ignores it, still staring intently at Dream; the man’s head is tilted, slightly. He’s thinking, or perhaps evaluating.

“I think...Schlatt’s a little more ambitious than you, I’d say.”

Wilbur chuckles and starts to pace on the walkway, coat flapping around his legs. He stops in front of Dream again and looks down into the mask’s empty eyes.

“Dream, let me be your vassal.” A giddy smile spreads unbidden across his face. “Dream, I understand you have a lot of TNT. A lot of the old trinitrotoluene in your possession, don’t you?”

“I do, I have a bit.” Beneath the mask, Dream is smiling. Wilbur can hear it; the buzz in his veins grows. He leans forward.

“I want to set this up, I want to rig the city.”

There’s a pause, like the world itself is holding its breath. And then—

“Wilbur, what the hell?”

Wilbur’s head snaps up, smile dropping. His gaze narrows on Tommy, frozen above them on the last step into the cavern proper.

Tommy’s hand drifts to the sword hanging at his side. “What the hell is he doing here, Wilbur?” There’s a dangerous edge to his voice that Wilbur has only heard once or twice before, and before he can stop himself, he’s laughing.

“Oh, Tommy.” Abruptly sober, he continues, “We’re just discussing business. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Tommy frowns. “You said you wanted to blow up Manberg. You were asking Dream to give you TNT.”

Wilbur hums. “Well—” He trails off into chuckles, watching the way Tommy’s hand tightens on the hilt of his sword.

Tommy turns to Dream, ignoring Wilbur entirely. “No, Dream, listen to me—”

Dream shifts; the netherite axe on his back glints in the lantern light. “Yes?”

“Dream, don’t give it to him.”

“I have to.”

“Look, Dream—” Wilbur starts. Tommy tries to interrupt and Wilbur talks over him, resuming his pacing up and down the walkways. “Dream, I appreciate— because the thing is, Tommy, what you’re not understanding is: Dream doesn’t want us to win, Dream just wants both Pogtopia and Manberg to be weak! That’s it! And Dream—”

He looks up at the man, still standing with his arms crossed on the walkway between Wilbur and Tommy.

“Dream, I’m not scolding you on this, that’s _smart_. You’re a smart guy, I’ve seen what you do; you can’t— nothing can get past you, right? So I’m here to help you! I’m here to weaken _both_ of us, _so_ much. Manberg and Pogtopia will be nothing more.”

“Wilbur—”

“I _do_ want Pogtopia and Manberg to be nothing more,” Dream agrees, “and I want L’manberg to be something.”

Tommy finally steps down off the stairs. “Why do you want L’manberg, Dream? _You’re_ the reason we had to make it in the first place.” The smile on the mask almost seems to widen.

“Schlatt is ambitious, and that’s a bad thing. He wants power, he wants land; you guys, having your own little nation where you just...frolicked around in the flowers? That’s fine by me, I don’t care. But—”

Tommy scoffs. “Well, it wasn’t fine by you when we had our war, Dream.”

“Well, I—”

“That is an awful big—”

Wilbur chuckles to himself as they talk over each other.

“I had a change of heart,” Dream says, nearly shouting over Tommy. It echoes in the ravine. Quieter, but no less forceful, he repeats, “I had a change of heart.”

Wilbur rushes back up to the walkway Dream is on, excitement buzzing in his veins.

“Dream, this has made me ambitious! Dream, if I am taking power again, I _will_ be ambitious, Dream, that’s what I’m saying! Let me blow it up. Let me destroy it all!”

Tommy stalks forward, pushing past Dream to grab Wilbur’s arm. The smiling, empty-eyed mask tracks the movement.

Tommy’s eyes are wide as he stares up at Wilbur. “No, this isn’t right, this isn’t—”

Wilbur laughs and pulls his arm free. “Ah, Tommy, you were never in charge.” He places his hands on Tommy’s shoulders as he moves the kid aside. “Tommy, you were never in charge.”

“Wilbur, this isn’t right.”

Wilbur raises an eyebrow at Tommy over his shoulder. Despite his protests, he isn’t moving to interfere; he knows he won’t win that battle.

“Wilbur—” Tommy shakes his head. “Dream. Don’t.”

“Dream,” Wilbur says.

A large bundle of TNT appears in Dream’s hands with a dull flash; Wilbur takes it with a smile and inclines his head.

“Thank you.”

He pushes past Tommy again and starts down the walkways into the bottom of the ravine, where an ender chest is waiting.

“Wilbur,” Tommy calls after him. “Wilbur!”

“I’ll do you proud!” Wilbur sing-songs; it echoes up through the ravine. He reaches the ender chest and kneels before it.

“Wilbur! Look at me.”

Wilbur sets the TNT down and stands, hands in his pockets. “Yes?”

There is an arrow pointed at his face from two walkways above. Tommy’s eyes are hard. “Hand me that TNT.”

Before Wilbur can so much as blink, Dream has pushed Tommy aside, the netherite axe held between them like a promise.

“Tommy, I’ll have to step in.”

Over Dream’s armored shoulder, Tommy’s eyes are wide and angry, and Wilbur grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realized how much Wilbur said Dream's name until I wrote out a transcript for the part of the stream that I took dialogue from for this chapter


	2. wires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chapter title from Wires - The Neighborhood]
> 
> second chapter today let's gooo  
> do not expect the third chapter to be up this quick though lmao

“Dream, come look at this.”

Wilbur doesn’t wait for a response before steering Dream over to his makeshift desk; the surface is completely covered in hastily-sketched blueprints and maps of Manberg, the festival layout, and the stage. Notes are scribbled in the margins, barely legible. Dream studies it all intently; the hand he hovers over his place of focus is the only way Wilbur can track what he’s looking at. Finally, he looks up, the dead eyes on his mask staring into Wilbur’s soul.

“Tell me.”

Wilbur grins. He outlines his plan with slightly-manic giddiness, coat flapping as he darts around the table to point at different things. A few times, he almost hits Dream with his excited gesticulations, but both of them are too caught up to care.

When he finishes, there’s a brief moment of dead quiet before he adds, “So?”

Dream hums. “I think it’s good. You’ll definitely—” he chuckles. “You’ll definitely cause a lot of chaos. There will be a _lot_ of damage from this.”

“Which is good, right? That’s what we want.”

“Yes, it is.” Dream smiles and runs a finger over the outline of where Wilbur is planting the TNT; some of the charcoal smudges, and his skin comes away black and ashy. “It’s very good.”

+++

Two nights before the festival - one night before they’re planning to sneak into Manberg and rig the place - Dream shows up as Wilbur is going over their plans for what may be the hundredth time. They stare at each other for a moment before Wilbur slowly raises an eyebrow.

“We’re not supposed to be seeing each other until tomorrow,” he says, like they’re two teenagers under curfew. Dream hums.

“I have a gift for you.”

Now Wilbur’s curiosity is piqued. “Oh?” He grins. “Is it more TNT?”

“Not—” Dream wheezes. “No, not exactly, but I can always get you more if we need it. It’s— here.”

With four flashes of dull white, a full set of enchanted diamond armor appears in Dream’s arms. He sets it carefully on the desk, watching Wilbur expectantly.

Wilbur chokes on his inhale. “Dream!”

Dream laughs. “Yes?”

“You— how long did this take you to make?”

“Most of it is my old armor,” Dream explains, shrugging like he hasn’t just given Wilbur a fully enchanted set of the second most expensive gear in the world. “I just added some enchantments, mended it a little, you know.”

“Right.” Wilbur clears his throat. “This is— why give it to _me?_ ”

Even through the mask, he gets the sense that Dream is staring at him in disbelief. “We’re about to go sneak into Manberg and rig it with stacks of TNT. Did you really think I was going to let you go in unprotected and get us both killed?”

Wilbur rolls his eyes. “It’s always about you, isn’t it, Dream?”

Still, he takes the armor carefully, running his fingers along the sharp, shining angles. He hasn’t worn armor in a long, long time; he’ll have to get used to it, again.

Mostly joking, he asks, “I don’t suppose you have a weapon for me, too?”

“Now that you mention it....” There’s another flash of light; a diamond sword, also enchanted, appears in Dream’s hands.

Wilbur stares at him. “I was joking, but—” he laughs and takes the sword, testing its weight before setting it aside with the armor. “I mean, I won’t say no.”

“Now if you die to a mob, it’s your own fault,” Dream says. Wilbur pouts, which is a difficult thing to do when he’s trying not to laugh.

“Aw, you wouldn’t save me?”

The end of his sentence trails into a teasing chuckle. Dream wheezes.

“No, no, I wouldn’t.”

“But you _need_ me,” Wilbur says. The words taste bitter in his mouth; he isn’t sure if he believes them, and he turns back to his plans to ignore the sudden emptiness in his chest.

+++

“You know,” Wilbur starts, shifting things in his ender chest to fit the stacks of TNT Dream had appeared with thirty minutes earlier. He’s already wearing the diamond armor; the sword is sheathed beside him on the ground.

When he glances over his shoulder, Dream is leaning against the packed-dirt wall of the Pogtopia entrance, arms crossed. He tilts his head, a wordless invitation to continue. Wilbur turns to face him fully and grins, sharp.

“You know, you’ve been betrayed too, haven’t you?” It’d be hard to catch the sudden way Dream tenses if Wilbur hadn’t been looking for that specific movement. “How’s it feel to be fighting against George, hm, Dream?”

It’s a low blow and they both know it. The dead-eyed smile of the mask is as inscrutable as always, but it suddenly seems a lot more ominous. Dream shifts, posture straightening as he steps forward. On his back, the netherite axe glints in the low, flickering torchlight.

“We should leave soon if you want to rig everything before morning.”

Wilbur laughs and turns back to the chest. He fits the final few pieces of TNT in and closes the lid. It only takes a few hits from Dream’s pickaxe to break the chest; Wilbur collects the pieces and tucks them into his coat, ready for reassembly when they reach Manberg.

“You’re really not as intimidating as you think you are,” he says, which is a lie. Dream stalks out the door and through his laughter, Wilbur calls at his back, “You never answered my question, Dream!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I know that George has been pretty absent from all the big smp plot stuff but consider: the drama


	3. movement 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chapter title from Summer Movement III - Vivaldi]
> 
> remember when I said not to expect this last chapter so quick? yeah ignore that lmao, I wrote this a lot faster than I thought I would

By the time they rig all the TNT, the sun is close to rising and Wilbur’s ender chest is nearly empty. He and Dream part ways on the path back to Pogtopia.

“Dream,” Wilbur calls, abruptly spinning on his heel. The sunrise paints Dream’s netherite gear in flaming red and gold. “When Tubbo starts doing his speech, you may want to leave. Because that’s when I’m gonna detonate the whole place.” 

Dream inclines his head, casting the mask in shadow. “I will...keep that in mind.” He turns away, cloak swishing silently in the crisp morning air. “Take care of yourself, Wilbur.”

Wilbur chuckles. “I always do, Dream. I always do.”

+++

Tommy is waiting in Pogtopia when Wilbur returns; his arms are crossed and for a brief - very brief - moment, Wilbur feels oddly like a scolded child.

Whatever Tommy was going to say is forgotten when he sees Wilbur’s armor. His mouth opens and closes silently for a few seconds before he blurts, “Where did you get _that?_ ”

Wilbur grins, pulling his coat open to fully showcase the shimmering diamond gear. “Do you like it?”

“Wh— I— I do, I do, but—”

“Dream gave it to me,” Wilbur explains. Tommy’s face suddenly drops, all traces of awe gone.

“I see. I—”

“Are you excited for the festival, Tommy?” Wilbur interrupts, darting around Tommy to search through their chests for food; he hasn’t eaten in at least twelve hours and hasn’t slept for even longer. He’s had more important things to be doing.

Tommy blinks. “I— I am, but—”

“You’re worried?”

“Yeah, Wil, I am. What if something goes wrong?”

Wilbur smiles, softly, and turns to set his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. “It won’t! It won’t. And, besides— I have access to a man who can create anything with a snap,” he snaps, “of his fingers. We’ll be fine, Tommy.”

Tommy frowns. “And Tubbo?”

“He knows the plan, he’ll be alright.” Wilbur claps, bouncing on his toes. “Tommy, this festival is going to be _wonderful_.”

+++

Schlatt sighs. “Tubbo, I’ll cut to the fucking chase, alright?”

Wilbur looks between the stage and the ender pearl in his hands. He could do it. He could end it all, right now. He locks eyes with Tommy, frozen and horrified on the edge of the roof.

“Wilbur—”

Below them, the microphone screeches.

“You’ve been _conspiring_ ,” Schlatt shouts, “with the _idiots_ — with the _tyrants_! That we kicked out of this great country.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “ _Wilbur—_ ”

“It all adds up, buddy!” Schlatt continues; Wilbur can’t see him, but he can picture the motions of his arms, the sharp anger on his face. “The fucking tunnels, your absence from our wonderful events— I mean, you walked off in the middle of this one! You walked off in the middle of this one, Tubbo. Don’t try and tell me you’ve done nothing wrong, because everybody knows it! I sees it with my own to _fucking_ eyes, what you’ve been doing.”

Silence falls, deadly still, and Wilbur’s fingers tighten around the ender eye. Tommy isn’t looking at him anymore.

Quieter, Schlatt says, “Do you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?”

A pause. “...no?”

“Nothing good.” Schlatt claps his hands, and the sound echoes. “Hey, Technoblade. You wanna come up here for a second?”

Wilbur’s blood runs cold. Tommy spins to look at him again, wide-eyed and panicked.

“Wilbur?” Tommy hisses. “Wilbur, what—?”

In the background, Wilbur can hear Techno’s shaky, feigned confusion. Schlatt is laughing. Someone - multiple someones? - is crying. Tommy is still staring at him, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. He looks so young, suddenly, in his enchanted netherite gear.

“Wilbur?”

“He won’t,” Wilbur says, with more confidence than he feels. “He won’t! He’s on our side.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest. Wilbur throws the pearl.

He reappears on the hill behind the stage; he can still hear everything, but it’s muffled, slightly. Wilbur isn’t sure if it’s the acoustics or just his ears, but he can’t bring himself to care as he scrambles for the bush where they’d hidden the button. He pulls it aside—

There’s nothing. There’s _nothing_ , not even a trace that anything had been there; the stone is smooth, the dirt around it is undisturbed. 

Wilbur pulls out his pickaxe with shaking hands. It takes him a few tries, but when he manages to break away the first block of stone, there’s nothing. The second: nothing. His shoulders are shaking, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s laughing.

He can’t stop.

From over the hill: “DO IT, TECHNO!”

He falls to his knees as the first fireworks whistle. Someone screams, and then two someones, and then the entire festival erupts into a cacophony that sounds louder than it should be, from so far away. Wilbur presses his hands to his ears. He’s still laughing.

The death log flashes in the corner of his vision.

_[Tubbo went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_

Wilbur chokes, slams a hand over his mouth. The screaming and the explosions get louder. Not the right screams. Not the right explosions. There are tears streaming down his face.

 _[Quackity went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_ _  
__[Jschlatt went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_

He isn’t sure if he’s laughing or sobbing, at this point. He isn’t sure if he cares, and he isn’t sure there’s a difference.

 _[Niachu went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_ _  
__[Callahan went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_ _  
__[Ponk went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_ _  
__[Bad went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_ _  
__[Antfrost went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]  
[Sam went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_   
_[Eret went off with a bang due to a rocket shot by Technoblade]_

+++

“Wilbur?”

Two boots appear in front of him seconds before someone kneels, hands roughly grabbing his shoulders. He tries to swat them away, but his arms don’t seem to be properly connected to his body and he ends up slapping them on the person’s chest. The enchanted netherite is warm and he watches, entranced, as shimmering purple ripples beneath his palms.

Someone shakes him.

“Wilbur! Come on, don’t tell me you’ve become useless _now_.”

Wilbur giggles. That’s funny, for some reason. Whoever is holding him sighs and rises to their feet, pulling him with them. He stumbles. They catch him with a grunt.

“You’re such an idiot.”

+++

Wilbur doesn’t know if Pogtopia has ever been this quiet. He’s back on the walkway, sitting on the edge so he can swing his legs in the open air. Niki is curled up one platform below and across from him. They’re both watching Tubbo and Tommy, who are leaning against each other by the chests near the potato farm.

Techno appears at the bottom of the entrance staircase, and from across the walkway, Wilbur laughs.

+++

Wilbur steps between Tommy and Techno, pushing them apart; surprisingly, they both let him.

“Let me make a point,” Wilbur shouts. He turns to Tommy, smile growing. “Let me make a point. This is perfect, Tommy, this is perfect, this is absolutely magnificent, Tommy, do you know why this is magnificent?”

Tommy takes another half-step back and crosses his arms. “Why.”

“Because now it’s exactly what I said; no one’s on our side, Tommy! Everyone’s just listening to whoever’s got the most power! No one cares, no one has any _honor_ here, everyone’s just doing as they’re told! Look, Tommy, what else do I need to convince you? The festival—”

“Where’s the button?” Tommy interrupts.

Wilbur laughs, slightly hysterical; he doesn’t miss the way Tommy flinches, and he’s sure Tubbo and Niki are doing the same, wherever they are.

“The button’s around the back of the hill but I couldn’t find it! I couldn’t find it.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “And you couldn’t call _Dream_ to help you?”

Niki coughs. “Um—”

“Tommy, what did I just say? Nobody cares about us, Dream doesn’t care about us!” Wilbur chuckles. “Do you _really_ think he’d listen to me?”

+++

Wilbur is going to get a headache from all the yelling Tommy is doing. He’s just repeating the same things over and over, but Techno is being Techno and so no resolution will ever be reached. It’s awful and loud - even from a few walkways above; the ravine _echoes_ \- but very entertaining.

“You killed them, Technoblade!” Tommy shouts for probably the thirtieth time. “You fucking— you fucking exploded everyone, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Wilbur stumbles and peers down; that’s a _new_ point of argument.

“Well, Wilbur wasn’t doing it, so someone had to,” Techno says, somehow managing to sound both amused and dreadfully uninterested at the same time. Wilbur chokes on a laugh.

“You—” Niki’s voice, as soft as it is, carries in the sudden, tense silence. “You wanted to—”

Wilbur waves a hand dismissively as he resumes his erratic pacing. “Oh, yes, sorry Niki, you missed that part; I was going to blow up Manberg. I was gonna _completely_ destroy it in a gigantic fireball.” He bounces down to where Niki is sitting and places a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, though! Someone obviously destroyed the button, so Manberg is safe for today!” He giggles, then claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound when Niki’s frown deepens.

“Wilbur.”

God, she sounds so _disappointed._ Wilbur hates it.

“Yes?”

A long pause. Tommy is yelling again.

Niki shakes her head. “Never mind.”

+++

It’s so fun to provoke Tommy; he makes it so _easy_. Wilbur sits on the edge of their makeshift pit, kicking his heels against the stone as he watches Techno and Tommy circle each other. Techno’s fists are raised; Tommy’s aren’t.

There’s no question about who’s going to win this fight.

Techno flexes his fingers and tucks a strand of hair back into his braid. “You sure you wanna do this, Tommy?”

Tommy glances over to Tubbo and Wilbur looks over, too. Tubbo bites his lip, arms wrapped tight around his chest. He’s still in his suit. There are faint burn scars on his face, mirrored on Niki’s; respawning can’t fix everything. Not when you die like that.

“I think—” Tubbo shakes his head, slightly. “Tommy, just do what you think is right.”

“We can settle our feelings with our fists,” Techno says. Wilbur isn’t sure if he’s being sarcastic or not. “When we come out of here, win or lose, no hard feelings. It stays in the pit.”

Wilbur claps. “It stays in the pit,” he echoes, sing-song, smile growing.

For a moment, he thinks he hears the echo of a wheezing laugh. When he spins to look, though, there’s no one there, and none of the others give any indication that they’ve heard.

He probably imagined it; the ravine acoustics are weird, anyway.

“I’m not doing this for Wilbur,” Tommy mutters, raising his fists. “You betrayed us, Techno. You killed Tubbo.”

He throws the first punch.

Techno dodges it easily, but Tommy - surprisingly - holds his own more than Wilbur thought he would. Maybe Techno is holding back.

Or, Wilbur decides as Techno pulls Tommy into a headlock faster than he can track, maybe Tommy just got lucky for that first minute. He stands with a sigh, coat swishing around his legs.

“ _And_ there we go.”

Techno releases Tommy as Wilbur turns away; he isn’t sure where he’s going, but he’s tired of being around all these people. His head hurts from Tommy’s yelling. Residual manic energy from the festival is still buzzing in his veins and he needs— he needs to get out. Sprinting up the walkways is as easy as breathing, now; he’s done it so many times.

He almost trips over Dream, sitting on the staircase up. His axe leans against the cobblestone beside him. Wilbur blinks, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Hello, Dream.”

Dream stands. “Hello!” The mask seems happier, today. “I have something for you.”

He holds out his hand; his fingers shimmer red in the low torchlight.

Flint and steel. A handful of redstone.

A button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all, this fic was so fun to write, thank you for reading! I'm definitely going to write Dream's POV for at least part of this fic, but if you have any other scenes you want to see, let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> [all songs are from my [evil Wilbur playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ZhbEPYaMDP8d5pMKvs7RD?si=S03UmSAJRPu6fo1c9xLbJQ), check it out]
> 
> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are very appreciated 💛
> 
> follow me on Twitter and Tumblr, @/bananasofthorns


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